


A prayer for Spring

by SolarisRasa



Series: Sol's Malec Whumptober 2020 [8]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Kiss, God Magnus, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Ritual Sacrifice, Whumptober 2020, good ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarisRasa/pseuds/SolarisRasa
Summary: No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD“Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual SacrificeSince he was small Alexander Lightwood has known his future. When his little sister was born the town elders had fussed over her, her tiny perfect toes and her smattering of dark hair. She’d been chosen just days after her birth and Alexander had silently decided to take her place, when the time came.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Sol's Malec Whumptober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953454
Comments: 8
Kudos: 197





	A prayer for Spring

Since he was small Alexander Lightwood has known his future. When his little sister was born the town elders had fussed over her, her tiny perfect toes and her smattering of dark hair. She’d been chosen just days after her birth and Alexander had silently decided to take her place, when the time came.

Now he’s nearing his 23rd year, Izzy is 19 and he knows as the winter fades into spring the elders will call her. She’s known since she was 8 and the knowledge has made her a little wild. Alec’s parents are forever disappointed in her adventuring, her encouraging the boys in town and her often inappropriate views but Alec loves her for everything she is. His parents are disappointed in him too, he’s more than old enough to have taken a wife and yet spends his time working or with Jace and his wife Clary. 

He doesn’t know how to explain to them, the girls have never drawn his eye. More though, he could never take a chance on love, not when he was waiting to die.

It’s in the early days of February, the ice on the river is less blue as it slowly thaws, that it happens.

He hears Isabelle before he sees the group, having just returned from a hunt. His arrows fly truest, though he isn’t a hunter by trade. The worn leather he wears to protect his warm underthings from blood and barb cannot protect him from the stabbing fear he feels as he runs toward his sister’s voice, Jace’s rising with her in complaint.

The whole town is gathered in the plaza, all of Idris turned out into the frigid morning, collective breath clouding over them. Beneath the meeting bell a platform has been erected and on it a rough hewn table, the top flat stone. Struggling as she’s led to the table is his sister, her dark hair flying as she twists against the hands that force her.

“You’re insane! The cold weather is what will make this year lean, like it has before, no imagined God can change that!”

Izzy wasn’t born the last time the town had bled someone like this, every 20 years the elders led their chosen sheep to the slaughter. Alec only had the haziest impressions of a blonde woman, Jace’s mother, before.

“You’re monsters!” Jace calls and Alec sees his best friend and blood brother is being restrained at the edge of the platform. Jace cannot step forward, Clary is carrying their first child and Jace is needed in town. 

Alec is replaceable. He has made certain there is nothing he does that the town could not find someone else to do or live without. Hunts might take a little longer, but they’ll still happen, and no one has ever appreciated his skill at the governing office much or listened to his quiet sermons. His siblings did not believe in the gods and most of the town were too afraid to hear his words about them, the stories he found in books no one cared for.

He strides through the crowd, taller by far than most of them, his bow curving between his shoulders, arrows fletched in red. 

“Take me instead.”

The sound dies around him immediately, Isabelle stops struggling, her eyes huge.

“The rite is very clear, an untouched youth in exchange for our prosperity, someone born of an esteemed house with strength to offer.” The elder, Malachi, sneers down at him, gesturing for the others to continue forcing Izzy to the bastardized altar.

“I am untouched. I am the eldest of house Lightwood and I offer my strength, both inner and as a provider and believer.”

There’s a collective gasp and Malachi glares down at him but it is a young man in the crowd, Simon, who speaks.

“Isabelle’s not untouched! I-we,” Simon falters under the weight of a hundred stares. Alec would be angry, but all he feels is gratitude that his sister’s indiscretion might save her, the gratitude deepens when Simon’s voice strengthens, “I married her, a hearth marriage, because I love her.”

“Let her go!” Jace calls again and many of the townspeople seem to agree, Simon’s words giving them the push they needed to demand Isabelle’s release. She is well loved, her kindness and her spirit something the town would be poorer without. 

“There must still be blood!” Malachi calls out and someone shoves at Alec from behind.

“He offered!”

The crowd has changed its tune, now they call for Alec to fill the gap. It shouldn’t hurt like it does, he knows he has purposely avoided fostering friendship, he is cold and often too caught up in his books, his research, his preparation. His inability to tear his gaze away from pretty young men has never helped.

Many hands guide him to the altar, he goes in a fugue, barely feeling when his bow and quiver are torn from him. He can see Jace, tears on his face as he still fights to reach Alec, Clary too is being kept back and Isabelle is held tight in Simon’s arms, her wide eyes focused on him.

He tries to tell them without words that it’s okay. 

He doesn’t need to be guided once he’s in front of the table. He strips off his leathers and his underthings until he stands naked, fighting the queasiness at the sudden exposure. The air bites at him, reddening his body as he lays on the freezing stone. It occurs to him then, once he’s spilt all the blood he has, they’ll have to peel him up. He wonders who will be given that task, wonders what will be done with his body. The offering is meant to be honored, but he has no delusions left about that.

Malachi will probably leave him for the wolves.

He tunes out the little ceremony around him, it’s not been done properly for a long time, his books tell him that. Instead he prays, not to the God his town is killing him to gain favor from, but to a God of lust and joy, to Magnus the deity of better days and kindness without end. He prays, lips moving just slightly, that his siblings might find those better days.

Malachi’s knife arcs toward him and he closes his eyes but the pain never comes. He opens them and finds a tanned hand wrapped around Malachi’s boney wrist. The hand is attached to an arm and Alec turns his head.

The town probably doesn’t recognize him, but Alec has studied every sketch of him he could find, has traced the lines lovingly pressed into pages with his yearning fingers. He has drawn that face before, in his deepest moments of despair it is this image he has reached for.

Magnus Bane, cat eyes burning with anger that softens into something that makes warmth explode in Alec’s stomach as their eyes meet, stands beside his altar. 

He is not dressed as one who feels cold, his shirt shimmers, open down his smooth torso, gold chain glimmering in the pale sunlight. Black pants tight enough to make Alec’s throat dry, and barefoot. The wood under him loses its frost and the light that touches him seems  _ more  _ somehow.

Blue fire rings Alec, leaving him and Magnus separated from the others, Malachi crying out as his arm is caught in the heat before he snatches it away.

“Hello pretty boy.”

Alec is acutely aware he is nude as he blushes, the cold air gone in the heat of Magnus’ flames even as Alec himself burns under his gaze.

“Magnus.”

Cat eyes look delighted, “You know me!”

Alec nods jerkily, pushing himself up so he can sit, covering himself by tucking his knees close, “I pray to you.”

Magnus steps close, cupping his cheek, “I thought it might be you, Sayang. Most beloved.”

Alec blinks, confused, and Magnus smiles gently, gold glinting on his eyelids.

“I have heard your every prayer Alexander. I know the shape of your heart and the kindness that you hold so close, I know your every desire.”

Alec is trembling, Magnus’ thumb catches on his lip.

“You read your books, you searched for my name in your tomes of Gods and you learned to love what you found.”

Alec nods, “Is it truth? Are you all that I read?”

Magnus touches their noses together, “All and more, I am all the light you want but I can be darkness too.”

“I don’t care.” Alec murmurs, “I loved you the moment I learned your name.”

Magnus hums and then he is kissing Alec and Alec is burning.


End file.
